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I nodded. “It was a big letdown for me. Not just because I wanted the job so much, but because I didn’t even know he’d applied.”
“Oh, that had to hurt. I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay now,” I said. “I feel like maybe things happened the way they were supposed to.”
“I can assure you that if you stay with me, you’ll be moving up in the future. Just keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
“Of course I’ll stay. I love it here.”
Other than the awkwardness of working in the same office as my ex, I did. I stood, relieved to have this conversation behind me. I thanked Wren and went back to my office, forcing myself not to grab another handful of M&M’s. Instead, I’d walk to the restaurant across from the courthouse and get lunch.
I scrolled through messages on my way. There was one from Bennett.
Bennett: Can we get together? I’m leaving on a road trip tomorrow and I want to see you.
Part of me wanted to. I liked him. He wasn’t what I’d expected from a hockey player. My brother was brash and flew off the handle over nothing. But Bennett, despite his big, powerful frame, was nothing like that. He was easy to talk to and took things in stride.
Plus, he was one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. Those warm brown eyes melted me. And his smile did the same. He was sweet and strong.
But I was in survival mode. It was all I could do to keep up with a demanding caseload at work and get the rest I needed in this exhausting phase of my pregnancy.
Not to mention that I didn’t want to develop feelings for Bennett. We’d be co-parents forever, but that didn’t mean we had to force ourselves into a relationship. He was standing by me because I was pregnant, and that was admirable. But seeing as he was hot as hell and a hockey player, I knew he could have women anytime he wanted. I wasn’t the kind of woman who could look the other way.
Not that he’d even suggested a relationship. I was way ahead of myself. I texted him back.
Me: Sorry, busy. Have a good trip.
I’d watch his games on the same Internet channel I’d been catching them on lately. I hadn’t watched many of Liam’s games in the past, but I had a renewed interest now.
Every time I saw his “Morse” sweater on the computer screen, I smiled. Funny thing, having a secret crush on the father of my child. But I kind of did, and I couldn’t have him finding out.
Bennett
I charged down the ice, passing Max Bagwell and edging my stick around the puck. His stick came down on mine and we fought for it. I was breathless, energy surging through me as I dug in and hooked my stick around the puck and eased it to Killian.
“Fucker,” Bagwell muttered.
I was entirely focused on this game, not letting my mind wander to anything else. When the second line climbed over the wall and took the ice, I went to the bench and sat down. After some water and a few deep breaths, I watched the game. My gaze wandered to the section where the girlfriends and wives of the players sat. My teammate Joey Moroni’s wife wore a Flyers sweater, a big grin spreading across her face as she cheered.
I’d never had a woman sitting there. Since moving to Fenway, Indiana, I hadn’t met anyone I wanted a serious relationship with. But now, I was picturing Charlotte sitting up there in one of my sweaters, blond curls loose on her shoulders.
Was it because she was pregnant with my kid? I asked myself that at least once a day. I’d been very disappointed when she hadn’t called after our night together, but I would’ve gotten over it. Now, though . . . now, I missed her.
I thought about her in that shitty apartment with shitty James. I pictured her sleeping between those pink sheets, wishing I was there beside her. I remembered the way she’d said my name when she was about to come on our first night together.
“Atta boy, Snope!” Killian yelled from next to me. He turned to me. “You see that shit?”
I just grunted. Charlotte was blowing me off and it fucking sucked. I wanted to be there for her, not just because she was the mother of my baby but also because she was her. Because I liked what I knew so far and I wanted to know more.
Focus.
I forced my mind back to the game. The last thing I needed right now was to let my game go to shit and get cut from the team. I kept my head where it needed to be until we’d scraped out a 5–4 win.
As soon as I got to the locker room, I found my phone and checked it for a message from Charlotte.
Nothing.
I rarely got pissed when I wasn’t on the ice, but I was getting there. I was trying, but she didn’t seem to want anything to do with me.
